So French feminists want to do away with "mademoiselle", the Gallic equivalent of the now outdated "Miss"; cue a wail of "aren't there more important battles for feminism to fight".

True, the pay gap between the sexes in France is running at a reported 19% – not, you will be unsurprised to learn, in favour of female workers – and 80% of low-wage workers are women. True, the main French political parties would rather pay fines than nominate more women candidates. True, only 10% of the estimated 75,000 female rape victims every year go to the police – and with Dominique Strauss-Kahn's alleged assault on a hotel chambermaid described as a "troussage de domestique" (lifting of a servant's skirt) by a famous commentator, who can blame them? Then again, there are facts and there are attitudes, and it is stating the obvious that without changing the latter, there's scant hope of budging the former.

The French debate comes a half a century after British feminists began chafing at being called Miss and started using Ms, for which there is no French equivalent. Ms was perhaps a small step for a woman but it was a giant stride for feminism; it changed not only the way others thought about us but also how we thought about ourselves.

And therein lies the hurdle for French feminists: this is not a simple them and us issue; it touches more than Gallic male attitudes and bureaucratic condescension but also how French women see themselves and the male-female relationship, a vision that can differ enormously from that of their non-French sisters.

The gender dance has a very different rhythm and dynamic in France, where they have never quite shaken off the pre-revolutionary idea of men who are gallant and charming and women who are seductive and open to being charmed. In accepting this, French women often consider themselves more sophisticated and cultured in their relationship with the opposite sex than their British and American cousins, sometimes regarded as po-faced, politically correct and puritanical in matters of amour and passion. Buying into what is, essentially, a line conceived and largely controlled by men, however, raises questions over where the Rubicon lies: exactly where and when does that act of harmless, sophisticated, flirtatious fun stop and the sexual harassment begin?

It is sometimes easy to forget that France is the country that gave us Simone de Beauvoir and The Second Sex. Some official interactions seem to date back to the 18th century when Jean-Jacques Rousseau wrote his treatise Emilie, in which he confined women to the roles of mother and wife. Setting up a joint bank account 10 years ago (while retaining my own account, I hasten to add), I was appalled to be sent a cheque book with my identity reduced to Madame followed by my husband's full name. The bank's response to a vigorous protest about this anachronism was the French equivalent of "computer says no". A decade on, I assumed things had changed, but a girlfriend has just fought the same battle with her bank. Another English friend laments the lack of a French equivalent for Ms, saying while "mademoiselle" is clearly inappropriate, "madame" makes her feel like a granny. When she told her students this, they began sending emails addressed to "Dear Mrs".

If the feminist arguments against "mademoiselle" don't sway, then surely the pitfalls of using the term must.

During the pre-revolution ancien régime its use was clearly prescribed: a laywoman or commoner was always addressed as "mademoiselle" to denote her lowly status. Madame was reserved for women of high birth. Marriage had nothing to do with it. Today, "mademoiselle" is most commonly used to denote an unmarried woman who is young or young-looking. After a certain age, wed or not, you become madame. But what is that age? How youthful or fresh-faced do you have to be? Is the butcher who says "mademoiselle", to a woman who is neither, being flattering or facetious? And while frankly I don't care if Catherine Deneuve, 67, and Jeanne Moreau, 83, like to be called "mademoiselle", as is their quirky right as "actrices", it does seem ridiculous.

For French feminists, this may not be the fight to pick, but is still one of the battles to change attitudes and thus change the depressing facts that are the daily reality of sexism for too many women in France. Does "mademoiselle" really matter? If words have weight and the pen is mightier than the sword, then the answer is yes.